Arch: Gabriel x Raphael for 30kisses
by Geniusgirl The Original
Summary: 30 scenes of what is, what was, and what could have been for the two most opposed archangels. RaphaelxJibrille
1. Imbalance

**Arch**

**Gabriel/Raphael for 30Kisses **_(in no particular order)_

**Title:** Imbalance

**List:** Beta #18 – Endless

**Fandom:** Angel Sanctuary

**Pairing:** Gabriel x Raphael

**Warnings:** I think the cracktastic pairing says it all.

**Disclaimer:** "Angel Sanctuary" and all related material are property of Kaori Yuki 1995.

* * *

To be honest, he has always thought that she is beautiful. She really is one of God's most perfect creations. Not only is her physical shape a delight to behold but there was something about her spirit that had always drawn him to her. He supposes that was why they were always getting on each other's nerves. 

She was dedicated to her position and to upholding the laws of Heaven like few others could ever dream of being. She had a strength that was belied by a fragile, almost childlike appearance. She had a fierceness about her that contradicted her serene countenance and placid manner.

She truly was the essence of water.

He does not come here often. He does not come in the daytime when he could easily excuse his presence. He does not see her by sunlight.

He comes here when his need outweighs his common sense and his will to survive. He comes at night when it is late, when others will be leaving for their beds, when there will be no more meetings, when there is nowhere else to say he is on his way to, when there is nowhere else for him to go. He always, _always _sees her by moonlight.

She was radiant, a holy embodiment of the Moon.

Smirking bitterly, he reaches out a hand and caresses her cheek. How long has it been this cold? He remembers a time when these selfsame cheeks flushed hotly and these vacant blue eyes sparked. Vibrant and furious, she was captivating.

He allows his hand to fall limply beside him. How he wishes he smoked. At least then he would have something to do. Did she not know? Did she not realize what had been happening to him? What _has _happened to him? Why was she so blind?

But then again, they had all been blind to many things. Each paid a separate price; some – like him – paid a toll to carry on as though there was nothing wrong, to continue living in a well-fabricated lie. Others – like her – were charged phenomenally because they would not and, he believed especially in her case, _could_ not stand by and watch the corruption of Heaven.

He kneels before her, fully aware that what he is doing and feeling borders on idolatry. But he would sin, again and again, if only she would breathe. If only she would speak one word… any word. _If only… _

'If only' is a form of torture. How it has escaped Sevothtarte's notice is a mystery.

If only she knew how long he has been confined to this state of limbo. His emotions are from a time long before she'd gone. Long before her skin chilled. Now, when he thinks about it, if ever he is brave enough to think about it, he has probably felt this way since before the age of man, since before the fall of Lucifer, since before the war against Alexiel.

Once more, he raises his hands to her face – both of them, trembling like an addict. Gently, reverently, he places his flesh on hers. Then, he does what he has always wanted to do. It is something he feels should be done by two: two people, two living entities, not one angel and an empty shell. Yet it is all he can have for the moment.

Her lips are chapped and frigid in their stillness. His are warm and broken, bleeding where he has bitten. Someone will find his blood. If they do not, he will escape notice for one more day.

He keeps his eyes open. His stare is angry, demanding from her that which he knows he will not receive. Her eyes remain blank. He kisses her harder, nearly brutally. Her head tilts backward and he follows, rising to his feet, all the while still connected to her shell.

He will not plunder her mouth any further. Her taste is something he wants to sample when she is conscious. She will taste like paper now. He wants to taste moonbeams on water. He has never violated barrier of her lips.

The one-sided kiss ends abruptly. He wipes first his mouth then hers. He will go on a little longer. Maybe, one day, she will come back to them. Only God knows where she has gone. But he will wait.

Another bleak visit has ended. Its meaning is endless.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Written for the LiveJournal community **30kisses**, with a few chapters of the actual manga out-of-order in the author's head. **Reviews are my happy pills.**


	2. Without Warning

**Arch**

**Gabriel/Raphael for 30kisses **_(in no particular order)_

**Title: **Without Warning

**List:** Beta #14 – Kiss a frog

**Fandom: **Angel Sanctuary

**Pairing:** Gabriel x Raphael

**Warnings: **Happy characters...yeah, in _this_ fandom.

**Disclaimer: **"Angel Sanctuary" and all related material are property of Kaori Yuki 1995.

* * *

Raphael is feeling playful. 

He watches his latest 'patient' waltz out of the room. She had been enjoyable. Perhaps she will be in need of further observation and treatment. Perhaps.

Footsteps approach and their even, determined pace tell him who will walk through the door long before the handle is turned. Something about the day feels fresh. He feels young and playful. It makes him daring.

When she enters he sits back, bracing himself against the wall and displaying unrepentantly his condition. She already knows what he has been up to. His unbuttoned shirt and undone belt buckle only serve to reinforce her summation.

From the way her fists are clenched he can tell she is livid. He is delighted. She's most fun when she's angry.

"You – I – how could? I can't believe you!" she sputters, outraged. Her blue eyes are electric. She sets her hands akimbo. "She was a candidate, a _candidate_, Raphael! She isn't even out of school!"

He smiles. "She seemed perfectly mature to me."

Her gaze narrows, her eyebrows contract, her mouth tightens. Now she's furious. "You _will_ hear about this. I am taking this matter up with Metatron. You cannot continue to treat women this way."

Her voice is calm but deadly. His game is no longer fun. She is serious. He hates it when she's serious. She can suck the fun out of a circus when she's serious. Why can't she feel the day, the atmosphere?

"Stop playing the hero, Gabriel. You," he replies, "are meddling. And most likely you've been spying too. Do you really think I'm that interesting?"

"You? Interesting?" She does not huff often so it a sight to savour. She has lost the dignified air for the briefest moment.

Suddenly, he has an idea. He has always wondered if she finds him attractive. She has constantly been impervious and unreadable. Maybe he can, at the very least, manipulate her enough to have her forget about talking to Metatron. The child eats from her hand, one sour word and he would be confined to some men-only station in farthest regions of Heaven – and probably somewhere north too. He takes his chance.

"I think you're jealous." The statement is plain and simple and a challenge.

"_What_?" She can't seem to believe her ears. Her mouth is slightly agape. "You can't be serious."

"But I am." He leans forward adopting his most seductive posture. His inflection alters just enough. "I think you want to be one of the girls you're always chastising. I think you want me, Gabriel."

She laughs. Just plain out laughs and it hurts him in a way he didn't expect it to. "_Me_? Want _you_? You must still be on a post-coital high because I've never heard anything so ridiculous in my life."

"Liar." His accusation doesn't sound nearly as pained as he feels.

She levels a glare at him. "I'd rather kiss a frog."

He smiles because she always makes him smile. He cannot smirk around her. "I highly doubt that. You've probably never even been kissed, have you, Gabriel?"

She blushes and looks away. Credit for not looking _down _is awarded where due. She straightens her face and looks him in the eye. "I do not need to be kissed."

By now he has walked over to her and stands mere inches away. "Oh yes you do."

And he kisses her. It's a full kiss though brief. He does everything one can do with a kiss in a matter of moments. She's breathless when he's done but he can see her getting angry rapidly. He needs to make his escape.

"Bet you your frog wouldn't kiss half as well." He winks.

She gropes at words. Using her lapse as an advantage, he slips an arm around her waist and pulls her in for a short peck.

He's halfway out the door when he turns back to tell her, "Happy Christmas, Jibril. You did a great job last night."

Maybe she'll hate him even more now. He tells himself he doesn't care.


	3. Noi, Adesso

**Arch**

**Gabriel/Raphael for 30kisses **_(in no particular order)_

**Title:** Noi, Adesso_ (Us, Now )_

**List:** Beta #12 – 1000 years ago

**Fandom:** Angel Sanctuary

**Pairing:** Gabriel x Raphael

**Warnings:** One bad word.

**Disclaimer:** "Angel Sanctuary" and all related material are property of Kaori Yuki 1995.

* * *

He supposes there might have been a time when there could have been something more than enmity between them. It may not have been love, it may not even have been friendship, but it would have been something. He feels rather abruptly like the world's greatest asshole. 

Look at what they have become. They are but shells of their former glory. Why had it been left to her to play the martyr? Of the four of them, why was she the only one with balls?

He snorts. Now _that_ was irony.

"What's so funny?" Michael asks.

From their perch, the view of the Water Garden is spectacular. From his angle Raphael can see every detail of her face as clearly as if he had been standing right in front of her. He closes his eyes to the sight.

"Nothing."

"You ever miss her?" Michael asks. Raphael doesn't need an interpretation of 'she'.

"Do you?"

"Yeah." Michael's tone suggests that the answer is obvious. "All the time."

"I thought you were beyond caring anymore."

Michael shrugs. "Not about her. Not about Uriel. Not about you… I can only have so much fun alone."

For a minute he almost doesn't believe he's talking to Michael. The connotations of his speech are too profound. Or rather, Raphael thinks, maybe it isn't Michael who is below the profound.

Once the four of them could have been a family but they allowed so much to interpose. In the whirlwind of Life and War in Heaven, they had lost touch with each other. Drifting apart, they had each fallen into traps of their own making. Not that they hadn't had help but they had all been so… _stupid_. It was laughable.

Uriel ran; Michael became more and more problematic; he, Raphael, sunk deeper and deeper into impiety; and she had been left to bear the brunt of everything.

He scowls to himself. He shouldn't be the one feeling guilty. He had never been the reliable one. Uriel was the rock. She could even have counted more on Michael than on him. He is true to his nature – he is as flighty as the wind. Yet…

Michael rises to his feet. There is no point staying here any longer. He looks one last time at her. To anyone else, he would simply be looking at the garden but Raphael knows he is looking at her. Quickly, Michael turns and is gone. Raphael is slower to go.

He can just picture her looking up. The image of her alive is clear and fresh in his mind. It could have been just yesterday that she looked like that. Not knowing why, he blows a kiss in her direction.

Of course he misses her; a silent answer to Michael's question. He misses what she represents: them, a millennium ago. And yes, he misses _her_. He is sorry he was never enough…

He was never anyone's hero, least of all hers. Yet a thousand years ago, he wouldn't have been averse to trying.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Though I'm quite sure everyone reading has noticed this by now, these chapters aren't in any way contiguous unless otherwise indicated. The relationship between the characters differs by degrees in each chapter. Just in case you were wondering. 


	4. Appreciation

**Arch**

**Gabriel/Raphael for 30kisses **_(in no particular order)_

**Title:** Appreciation

**List:** Beta #26 – Box

**Fandom:** Angel Sanctuary

**Pairing:** Gabriel x Raphael

**Warnings:** More happiness and some (possibly confused) real angel-lore and religion.

**Disclaimer:** "Angel Sanctuary" and all related material are property of Kaori Yuki 1995.

* * *

October 24th. 

Jibril did not do this often. In fact, she didn't do this at all. But today was special. She hadn't even known that days like today existed. Since his was the first to come around since she'd found out, she wanted to do something special for him. He'd been working especially hard this year, whether or not others realized or acknowledged it. Uriel's outburst had given him more work than anyone else.

Carefully, she held the paper in place and applied the adhesive tape. It wasn't much but she hoped it would be appreciated. It had taken her weeks to figure out what would fit him. Unfortunately, angels weren't like humans or demons. There was generally not much stock put by material things. She sighed and clipped another piece of tape.

She'd never done this before.

Believe it or not, the design for her gift had been taken from human art. She was not above admitting that they were talented. After all, they were God's creatures too. If nothing else, their imaginations were spectacular.

Finally satisfied, she reached for ribbon.

-+-

He was working when she found him. A particularly nasty cough had taken hold of a young angel and refused to let go. She stood at the door to the nearly empty Children's Ward and watched him. However infuriating she might find him, he was a dedicated worker.

Passing healers whispered that there was fear of tuberculosis yet, as she looked on, she wondered why they would fear ever losing a patient with him there. On recognizing her, they halted abruptly and bowed. She smiled and they continued on. She was not oblivious to the looks she received for being there. Everyone knew she and he were often at odds. The box in her hands made them even more curious.

She turned her attention back toward the inside of the room. He had just put the child to sleep. As he rose, she straightened and tried to look more pleasant and less anxious than she felt.

She'd never done this before.

He walked forward, eyes on his clipboard. When he was barely three feet ahead of her, she cleared her throat. He looked up swiftly and frowned.

She never thought she'd see the day Raphael looked tired. She'd thought wrong.

Almost distraught, he pleaded, "Don't tell me you're sick too."

She laughed, catching the attention of some passers-by. "Actually, I just wanted to talk to you for a minute."

He studied her then nodded. "In my office."

She followed his lead silently, still clutching at weighty her bag. With every step she wondered more and more if what she had for him would be appreciated. He held the door open for her to pass through. Once inside, the door clicked shut with finality.

There was no turning back now.

He offered her a seat – which she refused – before sitting down behind his desk. He shifted a few papers back and forth with purpose then looked at her expectantly. She had been the one to come see him, right?

-+-

"Do you know what date it is on Assiah?" she asked.

"On Assiah?"

She nodded. He thought for a moment then said, "October 24th. So?"

"So I have something for you."

His expression was confused. "Why?"

She sighed. "October 24th is the feast day of St. Raphael, the Archangel. It's akin to a birthday. Apparently, we archangels all have one."

"Really?" he arched an eyebrow at her. She was conscious that this was very unlike her but she wanted to have fun with it. She hadn't had that much fun recently – there wasn't that much to have fun with. Everyone was busy, even Michael.

"Yes. Well, anyway, here. Happy Feast Day," she said. She handed him the large present hoping that the weight pardoned the fact that she was somewhat shaky. He took it slowly and placed it squarely in front of him on the desk.

She waited then prompted him, "Open it."

He glanced at her then proceeded to gently undo the artfully tied yellow ribbon. Just as painstakingly slowly, he removed the white and gold paper. He was then faced with a large grey box.

With a smirk playing at the edge of his lips, he told her, "Wow. Thanks. I needed a box."

She threw her hands up in exasperation. "It's _inside_ the box."

"Oh."

She chuckled at him then, knowing that he was joking. Her mirth vanished as soon as the cover was off. He moved the white tissue aside and stared. Did he like it? His face was blank.

He reached inside and lifted it delicately upward. Thank goodness he didn't find it as heavy as she did. He twirled it slowly. Sunlight danced happily along the gold. Still staring at it in awe, he tried to form a question. "Jibril, what…?"

"It's a Caduceus," she explained. "It's a human design. They regard it as a symbol for healing. I think it suits you."

"It's beautiful." His eyes were sincere. She felt relief flood through her. He liked it.

"I'm glad you like it," she said, "but I've got to get back to work."

He stood quickly, placed his gift back in its box and walked around the desk to her. He stopped inches away from her. He smelt clean and airy, not at all sterile like the hospital he spent most of his day in.

"Thank you." He brushed his knuckles faintly across her cheekbone. This was enough.


	5. Window

**Arch**

**Gabriel/Raphael for 30kisses **_(in no particular order)_

**Title: **Window

**List:** Beta # 6 – Magnifying glass

**Fandom:** Angel Sanctuary

**Pairing:** Gabriel x Raphael

**Warnings:** Some liberties taken with one character which, though not canon AS, is canon angel-lore. Also, the tenses are a bit weird but they worked when I wrote it.

**Disclaimer:** "Angel Sanctuary" and all related material are property of Kaori Yuki 1995.

* * *

_Metatron is not a little child. He is childlike but he is not a little child. This is a well known fact across heaven. One does not earn the title of King of Angels by perpetually remaining in the state of a six-year-old._

Raphael walked along corridors of the palace of angels and spied them through a window. They were, predictably, in the Water Garden. She looked like a mother indulging her child. And, to the unskilled eye, he looked like a child being indulged by his mother.

However, the damaged glass through which Raphael watched them was more than just glass in disrepair. Through it he could see clearly the way the eyes of the child flashed with emotions foreign to six-year-olds. The special touches – chaste as those of angel should be – carried messages of feelings far deeper than those on the traitorously innocent face.

_Metatron is not a little child. He is childlike but he is not a little child. This is a well known fact across heaven. One does not earn the title of King of Angels by perpetually remaining in the state of a six-year-old._

Again, it was the same window and the same angels. This time she was asleep among her beloved water lilies. It was the middle of the day and, he supposed, she was tired. Alexiel's rebellion was taking a toll on everyone.

The figure that stood over her was one Raphael had been seeing more and more of. Metatron – the real King of Angels – towered above the small sleeping figure. He was probably taller than Uriel and she appeared abnormally dwarfed beside him.

Raphael remained rooted to the spot as Metatron leaned forward and caressed Jibril's face. He stroked her hair with the kind of smile angels never showed in public. There was tenderness in his simple actions that a thousand bedmates could never hope to imitate. Raphael's suspicions were confirmed. They were in love. Or, at least, Metatron was.

_Metatron is not a little child. He is childlike but he is not a little child. This is a well known fact across heaven. One does not earn the title of King of Angels by perpetually remaining in the state of a six-year-old._

The news had spread quickly. Jibril had withdrawn into the depths of her mind. No one believed it at first. The absurdity of it had drawn out even Michael who, after years of avoiding his duties, stormed straight into Metatron's chambers demanding an explanation from 'Sevy'.

But, thought Raphael, she was not possessed of the characteristics that facilitated insanity. Thus Raphael still believed there was more to the story than the new Prime Minister was claiming.

No one would be her hero, though. No one would demand an explanation. No one could stand up to Sevy. And the only who could… _wouldn't._ Not Metatron.

He scowled and his eyes caught the sight through the cracked window. It was the true form of Metatron once more – tall and powerful and at the feet of his beloved Gabriel. A perfect tableau of heartbreak through imperfect glass. It would make a pathetic image had it been any other angels. These two, however, were as they had always been: above defect. Metatron sat there with his head on her lap and a closer look revealed fingers entwined with hers, the other hand clutching harshly at the fabric of her skirt. Above defect perhaps; but never above grief.

The unconscious smile that twists Raphael's lips is embittered and frighteningly triumphant and he doesn't quite understand why.

_Metatron is not a little child. He is childlike but he is not a little child. This is a well known fact across heaven. One does not earn the title of King of Angels by perpetually remaining in the state of a six-year-old._


	6. Tattoo

**Arch**

**Gabriel/Raphael for 30kisses **_(in no particular order)_

**Title:** Tattoo

**List:** Beta # 3 – Unexpected, # 4 – Underground, # 11 – Needle

**Fandom:** Angel Sanctuary

**Pairing:** Gabriel x Raphael

**Warnings:** Rated M or R for a single instance of language and a semi-graphic description of sexual intercourse.

**Disclaimer:** "Angel Sanctuary" and all related material are property of Kaori Yuki 1995.

* * *

She is not so pure and he is not always to blame: 

"_What did you do to your face?_"

Gabriel's eyes are wide and Michael is sure that she isn't angry with him. Grinning, he runs his finger along the length of his newly acquired dragon tattoo. He's proud of it – his shirt is nearly fully unbuttoned displaying it in its full glory.

"You like?"

She frowns and beckons him closer. He is more than willing to show it off. With the final button undone, he turns to his right, baring his left side to her. Her fingers are feather-light on his skin. The tattoo is still tender but he does not mind her touch.

"It's beautiful," she breathes.

"I know. Same thing Uriel said. He's got one too, you know."

She's shocked. He knows she didn't expect reserved, serious Uriel to get a tattoo. "Really? Where? I've never seen it."

"It's on his arm. It's not the same dragon though. The colours are different."

She bites her lip then asks, "Did it hurt?"

He shrugs, "Just a little bit." Then he realizes what she has asked. Excited, he inquires, "Do you want one?"

"I don't know. Isn't it a little… improper?" He can hear the repressed longing in her voice. She has been an example for far too long.

"Of course it isn't!" he asserts. "_Uriel _got one. And if you don't want anyone to see it, hide it. It doesn't _have _to be on your face."

She is becoming more and more convinced with every word. He can feel it.

"All right. Who does them?"

Michael beams. "Don't worry about it, I'll arrange everything. Raphael has one too, in case you were wondering. It's on his back, by his shoulder."

"Michael, _who does them_?" she repeats. She may like the idea but she will not subject herself to some novice.

"Who else?"

Then he's gone and it's too late for her to change her mind.

-+-

Two nights later, she finds herself standing outside a door she vowed she'd never enter. Technically, she has entered this place before. On official business only. She rationalizes it thus: this is yet another business transaction – a service.

Still, she can't shake the clandestine ambience of the evening. That she is cloaked thickly under layers of dark cloth only adds to her awareness. That she is barely wearing anything under the cloak makes her feel remarkably… human.

Her guide grins, his red hair only barely visible in the darkness. He raps four times and waits.

When the door opens, Raphael stands before them in only a pair of black pants. His feet are bare and his hair is damp and she averts her eyes. He is not decent. But then again, a daring part of her asks, what does decency have to do with anything tonight? So she looks once more. She lets her eyes roam his body and she thinks something she has never allowed herself to think before. He is _very _good looking.

He nods at Michael who touches her arm briefly then spins on his heel ready to leave. Wait, no one said she had to do this alone! She opens her mouth to protest but he is already gone. She turns back to her host.

"Come on." He leads and she follows. Her eyes are plastered to the dragon on his back. The sight of it arouses something in her she did not think existed. She would have to be very careful here tonight. Otherwise, God forgive her.

-+-

"Take it off, Jibril." His voice is cool and collected. He doesn't appear to experience any of the nervousness rampant in her. She knows that angels fall in love. She knows angels are sexually active. She knows that some angels even border on being promiscuous. She tries to forget all this. Then she sheds her cloak.

She is left in only white silk: loose pants and a spaghetti-strapped camisole. She trembles slightly in the cool air. She watches him move from the operating table to the light switch. He has not looked at her yet. He turns off the light, leaving them in only the soft yellow of the lamp. Then he turns around to face her.

They stand, frozen, for eternities. She can feel his eyes on her every curve. It makes her stomach to twist wonderfully. His eyes fix on her tightened nipples highlighted by the white silk. He begins to move and she begins to breathe again.

He stands behind her, his body close and warm, his scent intoxicating. There is no contact. His hands come up to her shoulders and hover millimetres from her skin.

"Where do you want it?" His breath rushes past her ears in a hot gust. Her eyes close of their own accord. The word 'erotic' ought not to be in her vocabulary but it is the only word for the moment. The sound of his breathing is even and she realizes she had not answered him.

"Somewhere invisible," she replies. That can't be her voice so low and desperate.

"Hmm." He begins to move his hands. Down her arms he mutters, "Everyone sees your arms."

Back up and across her collar bone to the top of her breasts. "Even here. You drive people crazy with the sight of this."

Up the arch of her neck and around, over her shoulders, down her back to her waist. "Never know when you'll wear something backless."

Around her waist up her stomach. He is standing in front of her, looking down into her face. "No, never here."

Over her breasts and there is slightest contact with her nipples. She gasps and opens her eyes. His eyes are the darkest she's ever seen them. His hand hovers over her heart. "Here?"

She shakes her head. Not there.

He is moving again and suddenly his hands clamp down on her hips and jerk them forward into his. She wants to scream at the sensation. He groans, eyes closed. His fingers squeeze her right hip with just enough force.

"Perfect," he growls.

She's not quite sure but thinks she just had an orgasm.

-+-

She lies on her left side, with her head propped on her arm and her pants pulled down to the juncture of her leg and pelvis. Nothing is exposed but her hip and some of her abdomen. He is drawing freehandedly – there is no stencil, no guide.

His concentration is solely on his art and she wonders if he has yet comprehended that he is the only person who will ever see her like this. He is only making the sketch. He has not yet started the actual tattoo. He stands and casts a sweeping glance at her before picking up his needle.

He pauses. "What's wrong?"

She does not answer. She swallows and keeps her eyes trained on the sharp point headed for her skin. He gets the drift.

"It doesn't hurt." His tone could be mocking.

"Michael said it does," she counters.

"Well, his own is practically up to his eye." He looks her in the eyes and states solidly, "I swear I won't hurt you."

She believes him. She would believe nearly anything he'd said right then. She nods. When the needle touches her skin she winces from the chill, not because of any pain. Whatever the reason, he reaches for her hand and holds it with his free one throughout the procedure.

-+-

A week later, her hip aches. It had been tender but this is the first time it has ached. She is not surprised by the fact that there is pain, because she _had _banged it into the edge of her desk, it is the severity of the pain that astonishes her and brings tears to her eyes. She lasts through the day but at night she cannot bear it any longer. She dons her cloak and heads towards his home.

She is frantic as she knocks. One hand is on the hip, the other on the knocker. The door opens with an unexpected lurch that sends her flying face first into him. He steadies her and closes the door quickly. It is not as dark as it had been and her hood has fallen off. If she is seen she would never forgive him.

He takes one look at the dried trails on her face and she can sense a subtle panic in him. "What happened?"

"I don't know. It won't stop hurting." She unconsciously leans into his chest. She is trying to maintain her dignity but it is slipping away. She should never have done this.

"Come in. Let me see." His voice is soothing and she thinks this is him in doctor mode.

Soon she finds herself in the same position once more. This time he can see all her legs and her underwear. She had not bothered to change her dress. There is no other way for him to access the area. He pulls her underwear down and examines the tattoo. Despite the pain, his fingers are pleasantly cool against her inflamed skin. He quickly decides what is needed. A jar appears from seemingly nowhere and his fingers begin to rub cold relief into her skin. She could kiss him.

She _wants _to kiss him as he continues to massage her hip. The ointment is all but evaporated yet still he strokes. She places her hand above his and stills his movements.

She sits up and pulls him toward her. She opens her legs so that he can stand comfortably between them. He complies and the heat where their bodies meet makes her moan.

His lips are on her skin now - everywhere and conspicuously on her lips. She reciprocates in kind and then she has no underwear and his pants are around his ankles and then…

Fuck being an angel, she thinks.

He thrusts forward and she screams the way she wants to. She never thought it would be like this… with him. She never thought she would do this. Ever. Period.

They move; her legs wrapped around him, his face in the crook of her neck. He tells her things she thought only demons knew. She doesn't care that they're in the middle of his living room, that she's on a table, that she is still fully clothed, that she looks as wanton as Lilith. All she can feel is him and his movements and all she can hear is his voice and all she can see are his dark, dark eyes and then…

She shatters in his arms and he follows seconds later.

God forgive them both indeed.

-+-

It has taken her years to look the Most High in the face again. She knows he knows what she has done. He has expressed neither approval (which would be wholly unexpected) nor disapproval (which would be almost welcome).

She and Raphael hardly speak. He does not look at her. She watches, as a sort of self-flagellation, his growing fondness for his secretary. They are a little more formal than they were before.

They decided – she decided – that it would be best to pretend it never happened. She left him quickly afterwards, never once looking back. There are too many examples of what can go wrong for them to risk anymore than one mistake. He knows this and she knows this. It is best to forget their passion.

_But_, she thinks as she watches him flirt shamelessly with yet another; she did not mean it so literally.

* * *

**Author's Note: **This is the first time I've ever written anything this explicit. I tried to convey it as tastefully as possible without sacrificing either the passion or the very taboo atmosphere I associate with this particular piece. Tell how you think I did, ne? 


	7. Transparency

**Arch**

**Gabriel/Raphael for 30kisses **_(in no particular order)_

**Title: **Transparency

**List: **Beta #8 - Strings

**Fandom: **Angel Sanctuary

**Pairing: **Gabriel x Raphael

**Warnings: **Spoilers for Book 8 onwards.

**Disclaimer: **"Angel Sanctuary" and all related material are property of Kaori Yuki 1995.

* * *

By the time Setsuna happens, they've forgotten most of what it used to be like. At least this is what Raphael tells himself. He think that if he truly believes it, if he prays hard enough to believe it, it will become truth. But even his sleeping God mocks him. The more he prays to forget, the more he remembers. 

He remembers lots of things. Mostly, he remembers how to heal. Raphael will always remember how to heal because it is part of who he is. But he remembers other things too. He remembers ancient council meetings with Lucifel when they all still believed in God and Heaven and Good and Truth. He remembers discussing the medicinal properties of plants with Uriel minutes before a judgment. He remembers watching Michael scream through blood and tears and rage after casting his brother out of Heaven. He remembers the birth of Metatron. He remembers the fall of Alexiel. He remembers that Rosiel was once sane.

He remembers.

Vaguely, he remembers looms. The old, old kinds made of wood; the kinds human tell stories about now. He remembers watching women make thread, watching it all come together neatly on a spindle, watching it all fall apart with the slightest mistake.

He thinks that if Heaven were a loom, whoever was controlling it had royally fucked up since before he could remember.

Heaven may not be a loom but his thoughts were strings; bit and pieces of colored string strewn about the chaotic landscape of his mind. And again, quite detachedly, he wonders why it is that he should suddenly begin to think like this today. He has far better things to contemplate, far more important. There is a woman in Jibrille's body on his couch, on the run from Sevotharte and half-blind. Indeed, he has far more important things to contemplate. Why is he - ?

Oh, well. He is no stranger to psychology.

He is avoiding her. He is thinking of everything to keep from thinking about just one thing. Pity it isn't working. He can't help but think about who she is. Or rather, who she isn't. He knows that this woman is not Jibrille, that much he was practically certain of by the time she had completed two sentences. Jibrille was never like this. This girl is different. For one thing, this girl _almost_ trusts him. He kisses another cigarette and smiles bitterly at that thought. Jibrille would never trust him with her person _especially _if she was in the state this girl is in.

This girl is not Jibrille. Raphael remembers Jibrille and the memory makes him ache.


End file.
